


warmth in cold places

by gold_rush



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Family, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent Yondu Udonta, Parenthood, Protective Yondu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_rush/pseuds/gold_rush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The developing relationship between a Ravager captain and his cargo. </p><p>Or; Yondu almost instantly falls in love with little Peter but has difficulty expressing his feelings and communicating love. Which is 100% not a new development, just ask Kraglin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If people like this, I'll keep going! So, let me know. :)

The first time Peter lays eyes on Yondu he bursts into tears. The boy’s wide, terran eyes shining bright with fear and anxiety. Yondu gets it, he does, the boy has a lot of new stuff to take in; so, he tries not to take it too personally. Peter’s not exactly having a great day by any standard - his ma’s dead, he’s just been picked up by strangers (in a spaceship), and most of the Ravagers are eyeing him up like he’s a piece of exotic meat. So, yes, Yondu _tries_ to be gentle; he _tries_ to be understanding. But he hasn’t ever claimed it was his strong suit.

‘What you cryin’ about, boy?!’ Youndu begins, a little too loudly, a little too sharply; instantly regretting it when he boy starts hyperventilating - his little face all of a sudden much redder and much wetter. Kraglin tuts from somewhere behind his Captain, no doubt disappointed by his partner’s complete lack of tact. Yondu shrugs. He’s never been good at stuff like this, Kraglin should know that better than anyone; he’s never soft enough, not even when he tries to be. And, damn it, sometimes he really does make an effort.

 

It’s less than a minute before little Peter starts panting like a dying beast, trying desperately to suck more air into his lungs, his tiny hands pressed uselessly against his chest.

Yondu rolls his eyes, the kid’s gonna kill himself if he carries on. So, he sighs and shouts, ‘Clear out!’

No one leaves, there’s just a lot of awkward foot shuffling. There’s too much curiosity in the hangar. Everyone wants to see the cargo, see the tiny terran that’s going to make them rich. Everyone wants to look at the boy who seems like he’s not worth a single unit. Everyone’s trying to do the arithmetic. But mathematical ability is not a notorious Ravager trait. So, mainly, they just gawk.

Peter is really starting to go red in the face by the time Yondu barks, ‘I said clear out! If he dies from the shock of seeing your ugly faces I’m gonna throw every single one of you out of the hatch. One by one.’

They start to move then, but Yondu hates how long it takes, he hates that Kraglin has to usher them away, he hates that his lover has to lock the door to keep them all out. He used to have more power than this. Maybe he really should start chucking them out of the hatch, maybe then they’d start listening to him again. Maybe they don’t fear him like they used to. Maybe he’s weak now. Maybe he’s done. Shit, what if he really _is_ done?

While Yondu’s pondering all of this (i.e. undergoing an identity crisis), Kraglin walks straight past him towards the still-hyperventilating Peter, instantaneously dropping down onto his knees when he reaches the little boy. Hoping that he doesn’t look too scary as he reaches out and clasps the boy’s tiny shoulders.

‘Peter,’ Kraglin starts softly, the boy suddenly looking right at him, he's probably wondering how the hell they know his name, ‘You can breathe. It’s okay. You’re gonna be just fine. Yondu will look after you.’ The boy takes a moment, looks over Kraglin’s shoulder; looks his supposed protector in the eye and then proceeds to sob himself hoarse. _The boy’s probably horrified,_ Yondu thinks, _even he can see I’m done_.

‘Yondu’s not so bad,’ Kraglin offers, a smile in his voice, ‘He’s nowhere near as tough as he thinks he is.’

‘He’s not?’ Peter whispers eventually, still sucking in air like every lung-full might be the last he’s ever going to get.

‘No. He’s my best friend in the whole galaxy,’ Kraglin says and Yondu feels his heart swell in his chest a little, ‘I wouldn’t be his friend if he was mean, would I?’

‘No.’ Peter says, after thinking about it for a while. His breathing finally evening out a little.

‘That’s right.’ Kraglin says easily; he’s always been so good at stuff like this. Yondu wishes he could possess half of the warmth. So, when Peter chances a glance at him again, Yondu can’t help but give the poor kid a lopsided smile.

‘Hey, kid,’ he says a lot quieter, still a good ten feet away. The boy’s head tilts in response and he smiles back. It’s not entirely convincing, but it’s there. It’s something.

‘Get over here,’ Kraglin says and Yondu starts moving, no questions asked.

‘Didn’t mean to make you cry,’ Yondu says quickly, unusually restrained.

‘See?’ Kraglin says to Peter, like they already have their own language, ‘Now, we’re going to find you a nice room to stay in.’

‘We could stick him in the closet,’ Yondu says and Kraglin glares at him over his shoulder; if looks could kill, he‘d be dead _at least_ four times over.

‘Don’t give me that look. I mean,’ Yondu urges, ‘It’s a small room but you can get a bed in there and it’s right next to our rooms. In case the kid needs us for anything.’

‘Yeah. Okay,’ Kraglin says, half-impressed, ‘But we’ll have to clean it out. That’ll take a good day or two. And who knows what we‘ll find in there.’

‘He can stay with you.. or maybe with me. Just ‘til it’s ready,’ Yondu says then and Kraglin smiles. 

‘Peter?’ Kraglin asks and the boy nods in agreement, he wants to be able to find Kraglin at all times, his cheeks red and speckled but his breathing back to normal.

‘Well, okay then, Pete!’ Yondu all but shouts, making the kid flinch again, ‘Sorry, boy. When I was born my settings all got stuck on loud.’

‘So, you gonna help a fella up or what?’ Kraglin says, raising one of his arms, hoping to use Yondu as leverage.

‘Dunno,’ Yondu says, adding instinctively, ‘You’re kinda pretty down there on your knees.’

‘Yondu!’ Kraglin exclaims, looking quickly at Peter. They’ve never told anyone about them, never even hinted at it. They’re pretty sure it’s the worst kept secret in the galaxy, but no one has officially heard anything. So, Kraglin starts panicking that now the kid knows he’s gonna be found dead by morning. Unaware of what's to happen, Peter is smiling to himself, looking shyly at Yondu. Like he’s shocked that the centaurian could say something nice, something warm.

‘I suppose you’re kinda cute too, kid.’ Yondu adds freely, and Kraglin feels a heavy, _heavy_ weight lift off his shoulders.

Yondu hoists his lover up off the floor, smiling as he scoops a protective arm around Peter’s shoulders. Yondu knows they’re in trouble now. Peter’s daddy is an asshole, a spiteful egomaniac. And, _damn it_ , if the kid hasn’t been pulling on his heartstrings since he laid eyes on him. 


	2. Chapter 2

They don’t clean out the closet. They don’t even open the closet door. In fact, if the captain and his first mate are being entirely honest, they don’t give that dirty little closet a single thought. They don’t have the time to, not really, not with the stirrings of mutiny flickering through the Eclector and the pressing need for them to get off the grid and avoid the wrath of Peter’s daddy.

Of course, the crew aren’t told that that’s why they’re flying off into the murkiest corners of the quadrant. No. They’re given some bullshit story about a time-sensitive bounty hunt with an astronomical unit payout. Yondu’s set to lose around eighty percent of his secret savings stash in the setup and, to make matters worse, he has to pretend he’s thrilled about it all. But, the centaurian reasons - as he catches sight of Peter shadowing Kraglin around his ship - at least they’ll get to keep the goofy little kid around. That almost makes it worth it. _Almost_.

Peter spends his first three nights in space bundled up in Kraglin’s room, curled into a tight ball on the Xandarian’s hard mattress. As small and jittery as a newly hatched insect. The terran takes up half the space he needs to, and that unsettles Kraglin, especially since he’s sleeping on the floor anyway and he’s told the boy near a thousand times that he has the whole bed to himself. But everything’s still new and scary, so he lets the boy fall asleep clutching his walkman like his life depends on it every night. The ship's first mate pulling a blanket up over the little bug of a boy before he settles himself down to sleep. But that’s the problem with Peter, he doesn’t let you settle for long.

Kraglin has seen night terrors, almost everyone on their ship has had them at some point. The galaxy is a messed up, sprawling place. It damages people more often than not. But, when Peter wakes up screaming, it near makes Kraglin throw-up. Every time. It's draining, it's painful. A kid shouldn't scream out the way that Peter does. So, after three consecutive nights of it he’s shattered, exhausted beyond belief. Falling over his own feet all over the ship. He knows Yondu is feeling particularly sensitive about his captaincy, and that isn’t being aided by a bumbling first mate. So, he does what he has to do. He corners Yondu.

Yondu, being Yondu, misconstrues the situation entirely and pushes him flush against the wall. Despite Peter being less than two feet away from them. His hands roaming Kraglin’s body like a hungry man searching for food. Kraglin smiles, but he’s too tired to kiss his lover back. So, Yondu rests his hands on his lover’s shoulders instead and tilts his head, ‘You okay, Krags?’

‘Mmm,’ Kraglin hums, ‘Just tired is all. Ain’t been getting much sleep.’

‘He that bad?’ Yondu says, hints of genuine concern creasing his brow as he looks over at Peter, looks at the dark circles ringing his blood-shot eyes.

‘He’s not trying to be,’ Kraglin offers quietly, like Yondu can’t see that with his own eyes, like he doesn’t know that the boy barely says a word, barely moves a muscle, ‘He’s just a kid.’

‘I know that,’ Yondu counters, adding a little smile to prove he’s not angry, because even he’s not _that_ irrational, ‘All right, here's what's gonna happen. Peter can sleep with me tonight… and maybe tomorrow.’

‘I only need one night,’ Kraglin promises and his lover scoffs at the ridiculousness of it, waving him off as he says, ‘Yeah. Well, we’ll see.’

Yondu places a lingering kiss on Kraglin’s forehead, draws his hands to his hips, and turns to face the little terran, ‘Right, Pete. Looks like we’re bunk mates!’

Peter’s eyes widen, as if the change is a bit of an unexpected shock, but he’s not scared. Thankfully. He hasn’t genuinely been afraid of him since that first day. No. Mainly Peter looks a little dazed now - as if he’s accepted the Eclector as his new home but he can’t help dreaming of Terra. Yondu gets that. Hell, he _knows_ that feeling well enough.

 

 

Yondu's room is almost identical to Kraglin's - except the centaurian has six shelves buckling under the weight of his assorted bric-à-brac, overflowing with the odds and ends that he's collected from around the galaxy.

The little Terran stands awkwardly by the door, staring at the sheer multitude of the captain's possessions, waiting for instruction. Yondu rolls his eyes, 'Kid, you're making me nervous.'

'I'm sorry,' the boy whispers and, _damn it_ , if Yondu's heart isn't almost breaking at the boys earnestness.

'Don't be sorry, boy,' he says softly, because he's been getting much better at softly, 'Come on over here, you look tired.'

Peter moves, a little uncertain, clutches his blanket to his chest. Keeps the fabric close to his face; it's Kraglin's, so it smells like Kraglin. Yondu gets that. Kraglin makes Yondu feel better too. Braver somehow.

'Come on,' Yondu says, bouncing a blue palm off the mattress, 'take a seat, settle down.' Peter sits on the edge of the bed, then slowly lifts his legs.

'Do you want me to stay up here or sleep on the floor?' Yondu asks, not minding one way or the other, a nest of blankets suits him well.

Peter looks down at the floor, but doesn't say a word. Yondu nods, pulls a few extra blankets from under his bed, and starts spreading them out at the foot of the bed. He's pleased with himself when he's done, even contemplates going to get Kraglin to show him how good he is at making nests, but he doesn't because his lover's probably fast asleep.

Up on the bed, Peter has relaxed a little, sunk down into the pillows, pulled the blanket up over his legs, his eyes heavy with lost sleep. Yondu flicks off the light and settles back into his blankets.

'Night, boy,' he says into the black, 'You need anything, you just wake me. Ain't no big deal.'

Peter doesn't reply, so Yondu waits a while before he whispers into the darkness, 'Pete?'

His query is met with a gentle snore. Yondu smiles to himself and closes his eyes.

It wasn't so bad having the kid around.

 

 

Yondu has no idea how long he's been unconscious when an almighty crash wakes him up. His mind racing as he reaches under the bed and pulls out a knife, scrambling up to flick on the light. His eyes wide and wild, ready to fight, ready to kill. Teeth bared he looks around the room, his forehead creasing as he takes in the mess before him. One of his shelves is on the floor, his odds and ends scattered wide across the room. Some of them smashed to bits, some of them _maybe_ repairable. Not that he has the patience to stick anything back together.

Peter is pressed into the corner, blanket clutched tight in his small hands, and he looks terrified. Like a trapped animal. Yondu puts the knife down, slowly, and walks around the bed; his nose suddenly assaulted by the unmistakable scent of warm urine. He glances over at the mattress, takes in the small soaked patch. He hums to himself: _so_ ,  _that's what this is about_.

He looks at Peter and that's more than enough to make the boy sob out loud and, judging by the state of his cheeks, the boy's been crying for a while. That doesn't sit right with Yondu, he can't tolerate the idea that the kid was planning on being upset all alone.

Yondu turns to face him, reaches out a hand, tries to say, 'It's all right, boy.' But he doesn't make it all the way because Peter flinches like he's expecting Yondu to whack him across the face. The centaurian stops dead in his tracks, his bones suddenly heavy, his head light. He pulls his hands down, keeps them low. He won't be doing that again.

'Pete,' he says as carefully as he can but the boy is shaking, boring holes into the floor with his sad eyes, saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' like a broken machine.

Yondu makes the mistake of stepping forward, as soon as he sees his own shadow loom across the boy he knows it's a mistake. A tiny pool of hot piss forming around the boys bare feet. His eyes closed tight.

'Peter,' he tries, trying to sound calm even though his heart is beating so fast he can taste it, 'Peter, it's okay.'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' the boy squeaks on and Yondu is starting to feel sick.

'It's just a mattress, kid. It don't mean nothing,' he says, 'There's plenty of mattresses out in the galaxy.'

Peter continues his muttered apologies, his fingers white with how hard he's gripping the blanket. Yondu creeps forward, until he's close, then he crouches down and touches the boys arms - a mirror of what Kraglin did that first day in the hangar. He can do this. For the boy.

'Peter, look at me,' he says, 'Kid, look at me. I'm not mad. I promise I'm not mad at you.'

Peter opens an eye, just a fraction. Glances over at all of Yondu's smashed trinkets. Yondu can see that that just doesn't add up in the kid's head - hadn't the centaurian been gloating about his collection just yesterday, hadn't he called those silly, shiny things his pride and joy? He can see now, that was a mistake.

'Don't go worrying about that, Pete, they're just things. I have too many anyway. I think, in a round about way, you just did me a favour.'

Peter closes his eyes again. About to pull down the shutters for good.

'Look, I don't know what you're expecting to happen here, kid. I don't know what you think should happen. I only know what _I_ know. And I know that this is okay. I'm not mad. I'm not gonna hit you. I ain't ever gonna hit you, Peter. If something goes wrong, or bad, you just gotta do better next time. But, this..' Yondu takes a hand off the little Terran's shoulder, gestures at the smashed trinkets, at the mattress, at Peter, 'This ain't wrong or bad. It was just an accident, right?'

Peter nods hesitantly. _Good_ , Yondu thinks, _that's good._

'See, that's what I thought. I can't be mad about an accident now, can I? I'm Captain of this damn ship, I can't lose my mind over stuff people did accidentally; if I did, I'd never have a moments peace. Can you imagine how grouchy Kraglin would get if I had to cancel his Friday night foot rubs?' The mention of Kraglin makes Peter open his eyes, they're red with tears, and there's snot smeared all under his nose. Yondu tries his hardest to give the kid a reassuring smile; but he's not sure if it actually manifests on his face.

'You're okay, Pete,' the centaurian says quietly, moving to draw the boy into a hug, but he can feel the boy's knuckles dig into his belly. Peter looks down at himself sadly, _oh_ , the wet. Peter doesn't want his piss touching Yondu. The fact that the boy is even thinking about that makes Yondu cup the back of his head and place a soft, lingering kiss in his hair.

'Come on,' he says, 'We'll find you something dry to wear, and then we can lie down in the nest I built, and maybe listen to some of them songs you like. I've had that 'ooga-chaka' song stuck in my head all damned day. And listen, from now on, we're gonna try and make you a little bit happier, I know being up here ain't your choice, I know your heart's still broke about your mama - and I'm not sure how much better that will get - but I'm gonna make sure you get to smile more, kid. Ain't no child ever been born who don't deserve happiness. You hear me, boy?'

Yondu waits until Peter nods, then he wraps his little Terran in his arms and says, 'I got you now, Pete.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, teen Peter? 
> 
> How are we imagining teenager Peter?


	3. Chapter 3

When Peter wakes up he feels warm. He feels comfortable. He feels safe. His small body wiggling itself deeper and deeper into the large, fluffy cocoon of fabric that Yondu had given him the night before.

There had been a choice of clothing and it had been his choice to make, Yondu had said as much as he pulled three items from a box hidden under his bed like a tired magician. The options had all been straightforward, laid out  before the boy with little fuss or preamble, there was either a plain black t-shirt, a light blue sweater, or a slightly dirty, brown sweater that Yondu confessed he never quite got around to washing because it was Kraglin's personal favourite. Of course, when Peter had heard that, Peter who seemingly found boundless comfort in the Eclector’s first mate, the decision made itself.

'That’s a good choice,' Yondu had smiled, stuffing the other things back into the box before climbing to his feet -  a groaning, almost huffing sound that all adults seem to make whenever they have to lift themselves up anywhere slipping past his lips.

‘Never get old, Pete,’ Yondu smiled as he made his way toward the terran, setting the sweater down on the bed before ruffling the little boy's hair. ‘It’s no good on the bones!’

Still not much of a talker, Peter said exactly nothing in reply. But Yondu had expected as much and let his hand linger for a while before he pulled it away and left the room.

Peter doesn’t know exactly how long he was left standing there in the semi-darkness with his damp clothes and his wide eyes, but Yondu had only been gone for what seemed like moments when he returned armed with a bowl full of water, a small towel, and a wash cloth.

Peter had, for some unfair reason, expected the water to be ice-cold; so when the centaurian placed the water on the floor and a thick mist of steam billowed up out of the bowl it was a pleasant surprise – and the reds and pinks of shame started to burn at his cheeks once more.

Yondu, noticing the blooming blush, frowned as he handed Peter the wash cloth - having to nudge it softly at the boy’s hands so he’d look up from the floor and take it. Offering the little terran a lopsided, apologetic smile that Peter couldn’t really understand.

Peter often couldn’t comprehend the face of the man who stood before him; he couldn’t identify why the captain looked so sad or so guilty. After all, Yondu hadn’t been the one who had broken everything, had he? Yondu hadn’t been the one who had soaked his mattress through with piss.

'You know how to wash yourself?' Yondu had asked then, cutting across Peter’s thoughts without any harshness. His face taut with a concern that reminded the boy so much of his dead mother.

Peter nodded - silent and sad.

'Okay, that’s good,’ Yondu had said then, but the pitched lightness of his voice was wavering. ‘I'll go and wait outside, I’ll give you a little space, and you can holler me back in when you're done. All right?  Don't go stepping all over the floor now, neither of us wants to be pulling chunks of glass out of your toes. And don't worry none about your clothes, just leave them on the bed and I'll sort it all out. All right? We got this, boy. You’re all right.'

And with that last attempt at reassurance Yondu was gone, the quiet click of the door signalling that it was time for Peter to peel off his wet clothes and wash himself clean.

He did it slowly at first, like he was nervous and unfamiliar with his own body, his hands heavy and clumsy, but then a kind of panic came over him halfway and it meant that by the time he was patting himself dry he was also rubbing his body raw, his chaotic movements scrapping across his skin painfully. And _yes_ , it did hurt him, parts of him were stinging long after he’d abandoned them, but it hurt nowhere near enough to slow him down.

Once he slipped Yondu's sweater over his head, hissing as the material ghosted his skin, he felt calmer. So, he took a series of deep, shaky breaths and whispered towards the door, 'Yondu?'

Peter was sure he'd been too quiet, that his voice was too tired, despite the night-time silence that had washed over the Eclector, but Yondu cracked the door open and slipped in with a grin, 'Look at you, Pete. It's like looking at a mini me.'

That made Peter laugh, he didn't know why. But it did. And so, when Yondu approached him, stepping over the broken mess and said, 'Just gonna lift you up, boy.' Peter let him do it, he let the centaurian carry him to the blanket nest and set him down in the heart of it.

And, when Peter shifted against the cushioning and the neck of his too-big sweater gaped open, allowing Yondu to see the violent rawness of his skin, the little boy let him tut, and coo, and gently shift the fabric to hide the red and say, ‘What am I gonna do with you?’

Peter, as expected, said nothing in reply – he remained still and silent but somehow he was not as sad as he had been moments earlier.

Yondu smiled at him and hummed, like a decision had been made, before he said, 'I think I gotta sleep down here with you, Pete, is that okay?'

Peter nodded. After all, sharing a little space was the least he could do. Yondu nodded too and then he settled himself down into the nest, the tiny terran following suit. And, for the life of him, Peter can't remember how long it took him to fall asleep, but he remembers that Yondu was whistling.

 

  
Now that Peter's properly awake, he remembers the night before with increasing clarity, he remembers the terrible mess he made, and the wet, and all of the precious broken things that he knows Yondu loved even though he kept saying otherwise.

Automatically, his body stiffens, his eyes wide as tries to push himself up off the floor, as he tries to run away to who knows where, as he tries to escape the room but, as his small hand pushes against warm flesh, he realises that he's been lying with his head on the centaurian's chest.

'You're fine, kid,' he hears the captain say, can feel the deep rumble of it through his body. 'Did you have a nice sleep?'

Peter doesn't know what to do, so he sits up, his eyes daring to glance over at the broken pieces. They're not there. He looks over at Yondu, almost hopeful, and wonders if it might all have been a monstrous nightmare - but the presiding softness of Yondu's eyes tells him that it _had_ happened, that it _was_ real.

'How about we go and wake up, Krags?' Yondu half-smiles, desperate for Peter not to feel bad about everything again.

'Okay,' Peter says eventually, quietly, his eyes lighting up just a little and Yondu grins at him, 'You wanna get changed first… or do you wanna go and see our favourite man in his man's best sweater?'

Peter looks over at the bed in confusion and, to his surprise, the mattress looks clean; his clothes dry and neatly folded in the centre. _It really looks like it never happened_. Peter looks down at himself, looks down at the sleeves that almost hang to his shins and smiles. He likes the sweater.

'That's the spirit,' Yondu says brightly, patting Peter on the back before he pulls himself up off the floor and heads towards the door. Peter following him closely. Then, they walk past the closet that could have been Peter's bedroom and sneak into Kraglin's quarters.

Yondu flicks on the light, strides across the floor, jumps onto the bed and shouts, 'Rise and shine!'

Understandably, Kraglin almost jumps out of his skin, his eyes wide and red, but once he sees that it’s Yondu he settles back against his pillows. Peter smiles; he can tell that Yondu sneaks up on him a lot.

When he’s finished laughing, clearly pleased with himself, Yondu pats the mattress beside him, so Peter walks over and climbs up onto the bed too.

'Did he snore?' Kraglin asks, smiling at Peter as he wipes at his eyes, notably taking in the sweater that Peter's wearing but not mentioning it.

'No,' Peter says in a whisper, suddenly shy with Kraglin, suddenly worried that Yondu is going to tell Kraglin that he broke everything and wet himself like a baby.

'You get your beauty sleep, sweetheart?' Yondu asks, deflecting his first mate's attention.  
  
'What do you think?' Kraglin says with a yawn, playfully gesturing at himself.

'You always look good to me,' Yondu says smoothly and Kraglin punches him lightly on the arm, rolling his eyes, despite the flush the spreads across his cheeks as he says, 'Ain't you a charmer this morning. Did you two have a nice night together?'

Yondu huffs and says, 'Both slept like a dream, didn't we Pete?'

Peter doesn't know what else to do, so he nods, hesitantly. Maybe _too_ hesitantly because Kraglin arches an eyebrow, looking between Peter and Yondu with increased interest. But seeing the warm, pleading look in his lover's eyes he says, just as warmly, 'Good. That's great.'

And, suddenly, Peter _knows_ that Yondu isn't going to tell Kraglin about what happened; he _knows_ it’s their secret; he _knows_ Yondu isn't going to mention the mess or the crying.

But, in turn, that also means that Kraglin’s never going to know that Yondu whistled him to sleep, that he cleaned the mess up silently on his hands and knees, that he laundered the boy’s clothes, or that he checked to make sure Peter’s skin wasn’t red anymore before he lay back and let the terran curl up against him.

Feeling like a weight has been lifted, Peter draws a little closer to Yondu, in Yondu's big sweater, and listens to the men talk back and forth. They smile a lot when they look at each other and that makes Peter feel happy.  So, he smiles and laughs too and sometimes he adds a word or two to the conversation when they ask him things directly, and they never ask him complicated questions, so if he can’t find the right words a nod or a shrug will do.

For instance, when Yondu turns to him and says, out of nowhere, 'Wanna learn how to pilot a ship like this, Pete?' Peter's eyes light up and his head is nodding so dramatically it looks like it might bobble right off his shoulders. He knows it must look funny because Kraglin laughs.

'We'll make a ravager out of you yet!' Yondu beams and, for a moment, Peter feels like a child again. 


End file.
